Wheel Of Emotions.

If I was asked to describe myself in one sentence only, "Wheel of emotions" seems a somewhat appropriate term to use.
"I feel" is often an expression associated with my astrological sign of Cancer. As soon as emotions overcome me, logic is suppressed and my senses start to rule me. In those moments, I behave irrationally and become foolish. Like a ship lost at sea in a storm, I bounce of waves at the mercy of the raging waters, longing for a safe harbor and a solid anchor.

Intriguingly, emotions and their manifestation have been closely studied, as after all, it is not only our intellect that defines us. Our character and our individuality are shaped by our feelings as well. Robert Plutchik, a renowned psychologist actually did created a symbolic wheel of emotions in 1980. It consists of 8 basic emotions and 8 advanced emotions each with counterpart opposite.

The eight basic emotions in the wheel are: anger, fear, sadness, disgust, surprise, anticipation, acceptance, and joy. The advanced ones are: optimism, love, submission, awe, disappointment, remorse, contempt and aggressiveness.

Emotions help us in our survival. We make decisions in our present based on our past experiences, all closely tied to our perception of a decisions outcome. If it resulted in pain and sadness, it will most likely prevent us from going in the same direction again, while joy and happiness have the opposite effect.
Emotions can also direct our lives, as they tell us the state of our mental being. At one point or another in our lives, we succumb to the negative emotions that rule our thinking in a devastating way. Anything from fear, sadness and jealousy, those alone or in combination prevents us from moving on and living a healthy existence.

Science and psychology apart, emotions and feelings are a part of who we are. They distinguish us, make us compelling and compassionate and make us aware of the hidden beauty within and around us. Fortunate are those, who can keep them under control, but yet again, those of us who can not, for better or worse, are true artists at heart and soul. As it is this perception and this sensitivity to our surroundings and its overflow that is so eloquently captured and conveyed through music, the written word and the beauty of the versatile art in photography, sculptures and paintings.

Artist Unknown.

I own two paintings that come from the same artist. As with any work of art, I often wonder about this man (or a woman), that placed the brush strokes over the canvases, creating two tranquil landscapes. They seem to be both inspired by a coastline in a warm climate, judging from the composition.

I have placed both paintings on the large south wall of my living room. In spring, summer and early autumn, the setting sun slowly casts its rays upon the canvases, first one, then the other. The warm light amplifies the colours, adding to the perception of the actual sunrise or sunset depicted within the landscape. It is an unusual, almost a magical sight.

Both are absolutely beautiful artworks in my eyes. The way the artist manged to capture the colours of the rocks and the sea, the reflection of the sun in its surface and the meeting of the land and the ocean and the white foam of the surf, is uncanny.
These magnificent pieces were given to me as a gift by my parents. Obtained in a shop that dealt with reselling of artwork, the sellers claimed the artist to be known and the works considered to be of a certain value.

To be honest, the only value these hold for me is a sentimental one. I genuinely love the style, the concept and the motifs. However, I still wonder who the artist is or was and where and when these artworks were created. The signature is difficult to read and makes no sense to me. I have tried to search the net on names that the letters might represent, but no luck.

Does any of you have a suggestion of what the name is of the artist that signed these paintings?
(Please click the below image to enlarge.)

My Passion.

Horses are my passion. Even though I do not ride anymore, I still recall the beauty of a ride through an autumn forest and the sense of freedom it offered me.

Today, what fascinates me about these animals is their elegance and the speed with which they move, with such an ease and grace. When I was young, I loved to draw horses and did this constantly. I even made clay artwork depicting fairy tale horses in art classes. I watched horses and studied their anatomy and the way they took their strides and how their body moved in a wild run. I developed a skill of drawing a horse very fast, just a few lines using a pen.

Today - and ever since I began to draw - I have been fascinated by two subjects; ethereal beauty and action in a movement. I tried at all times to depict these in my drawings or paintings; and both can be found in a run of a horse.

Below is a mix of images I drew when I was really young. I have posted a picture of one of my oil paintings previously, however I always preferred to draw horses with a pencil. Some are inspired by the old Czech fables and most are unfinished sketches, but all are over 2o years old.

The clip below documents an attempt to draw a horse the way I used to. I am of course a bit out of practice and although it is difficult to draw with one hand, while looking at the image through a lens of camera in my other hand, I think you get the idea. The drawing is a bit off proportionally (way too long front legs!), but the learned skill is still there, somewhere, even tough it is in need of some serious "dusting off".

Gothic Style And Art Nouveau.

When it comes to architecture, I surely am no expert. If I am asked to describe a type of building that I would truly like, I would most likely bring up the multitude of Gothic styled cathedrals that I have gazed upon and visited over the years. I have an inclination to be fascinated by the Medieval times, when these grand and majestic structures were built. I love the vastness of the space, the clear vertical lines, the vaults, the arches, the columns and not to forget the multitude of glass windows that conclude these striking structures. I also love the adornation and sculptures that decorate the facade, including the gargoyles and the multitude of tall spires; all creating a shroud of mystique and enigmatic darkness depicted in Gothic Novels, which are so captivating.

However, in recent years I have started to appreciate the beauty and style of the Art Nouveau.

This begun already when I was a very young teenager, without my realization. I was utterly intrigued and greatly inspired by a great Czech artist, that is considered as the founder of Art Nouveau. Alfons Mucha was born and raised in the former Austrian Empire (in the part that is today Czech republic), but already as a very young man moved to Paris, where he produced magazine and advertising illustrations. As often happens in life, he was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time and became a sensation literally over night, when he was commissioned to create a poster of Sarah Bernhardt, the most famous actress in Paris, in 1894.

I love his style that is so romantic and so accomplished in colours and shapes, often depicting women with a serene style and feminine elegance. I also find some sort of recognition in his way of creating a series of pictures; such as the different seasons, the different times of the day or the different stars in the sky, as I too find great fascination in following a change or depicting or capturing a progress. My most favorite series is for sure the ethereal beauties that depict the times of the year. Already when I gazed at his winter, spring, summer and autumn for the first time, I knew this was the style that I was born to paint myself.

On our visit to Prague this June I visited the Mucha museum which shows off some of his lovely originals, although most of them are displayed in the galleries of Paris. However, I got to see one of his absolute masterpieces, that can only be seen in Prague and not in any museum. He is the designer of one of the stained glass widows in the St. Vitus Cathedral at the Prague Castle. Watching it leaves me in a complete awe, as I find the composition, the colours and overall the style incredibly pleasing to the eye.
Particularly as the experience combines my favorite Gothic Style with Art Nouveau.

An Apple A Day...

It is around this time that I usually replace the type of fruit in my fruit basket at home. The tangerines, clementines and oranges are becoming scarcer in the stores and are replaced by apples and pears. I like both fruits equally well, however somehow the varying colours and the round form of the apple appeals to me.

In my younger days I used apples as objects in the still life I was forced to paint in my art classes. It was not my preferred subject, as I love to depict movement and speed in my art. However, it taught me to observe forms and the play with light and shadow, as well as the ability to mix and use the colours appropriately.
For a while I would see all this in an apple, every time I was about to bite into it. Sometimes I miss those days, when my sensitivity to everything around me was ever so present; today the only thing I remember about an apple is the notion it might keep the doctor away, at least for now.

The Big Easy.

Today the traditional "Mardi Gras", or Fat Tuesday, is held in New Orleans. This must be the best and worst time in the year to visit the city.
I have been in New Orleans twice while I lived in the US in the 90's, although these visits were in the summer and not in February. Both times I had an incredible stay. New Orleans, together with Las Vegas, are my two favorite American cities. The two couldn't be more different from each other and I guess therein lies the allure, as I like them for different reasons.
While Las Vegas is a place like no other, a fantasy playground, where anything can happen (and to me a very American city), New Orleans always struck me as exotic yet so very European in some ways. The French influences are very apparent, particularly in the architecture.

When I visited The Big Easy the second time in 1996, I did something I never did before or since. I willingly posed for a street portrait artist. She drew a large black and white portrait using charcoal only. I like to believe the finished piece is a reflection of how the artist saw me, even though the likeness between me and the girl in the picture is pretty much non-existent. It took her 2 hours to finish the drawing and although I suffered greatly and had to endure stares and comments from all the onlookers, I am very happy I did this. This piece of genuine art is one of my precious possessions to this day, as it is a very unique souvenir.

The Run Of Wild Horses.

When I was young, I was crazy about horses. I was one of those mad girls that would do anything to be able to ride. I pursued this interest with a strong passion of a young girl, one that I today miss and even envy.
It took months of persuasion until my mother allowed me to ride. As any parent, she was worried about me, but finally gave in.

We all have recollections of complete and ultimate happiness. Those moments in time, when world stands still and we are simply happy. When this emotion consumes us and overtakes us entirely. Those are rare occasions in life and can be easily counted with fingers of one hand.
Being on a horseback was one of those moments for me. The sense of freedom, the feeling of speed, the loss of control, yet simultaneously, the overwhelming feeling of being in charge of an impressive animal, were all enthralling.

Unfortunately, I only got to ride for a short period of my youth, as more important things, such as school, took over my time.
But I never forgot horses. I drew and painted them as often as I could. The essence of speed and the symbol of ultimate freedom in their motion were an incredible inspiration, which I longed to capture on canvas. I always loved when my paintings depicted movement.

Here is an example of one of those paintings, on display in my guest bedroom. I left it unframed, to accentuate the wild run of the spirited animals.

The Alchymist.

This picture was featured in one of our scientific catalogues at work. I liked it so much, that I decided to order a reprint of the painting and placed it on the wall just above my desk at home. It is called "The Alchymist" and it is painted by an English landscape and portrait artist, Joseph Wright of Derby, around 1771. I love the way he managed to capture the feeling of expectation and marvel that every scientist can recognize. The sensation that overcomes one just before getting a result or performing an experiment.
The piece is actually called The Alchymist in Search of the Philosopher's Stone and illustrates the moment of discovery of the element phosphorus by German alchemist Hennig Brand in 1669.
I love the atmosphere, the play on light and dark, creating a mysterious setting. I can see the painting every time I sit at my desk and almost always settle my eyes on it for more than a moment, as it reminds me of mankind’s curiosity and the never-ending pursuit of progress.

My First Painting.

Now that I have disclosed the fact that I create oil paintings in my spare time (or at least used to), I thought I would share my art. This is a photograph of a painting that hangs in my living room just above my red sofa.
It is perhaps not my best painting, but it is my first. There are many flaws in it, but bearing in mind I was only 17 years old when I made it, it is not half as bad. The apples are a bit off, but I think I managed to capture the blue velvet cloth perfectly. Considering that I only could paint it once a week and had to find and arrange (or rearrange) all the items every time I did, it could have been worse. I painted this in an evening class that I attended once week, when I was a teenager. I was the youngest there at that time, as no one was below 40 and I felt badly out of place to begin with. The class was held in studio in the attic of an old building, and I recall the exposed beams of the wooden roof and the prevailing smell of turpentine and cigarette smoke. I was surrounded by people that longed to express themselves and did so. The teacher, an artist himself, was excellent. His way of teaching was very indirect, but very effective. He had one rule only; we were not allowed to paint from photographs or pictures, he urged us to paint “live” real things. Only “still life”. The studio was filled with all kind of “stuff”; statues, vases, furniture, flowers, cutlery, old books, clothes, fabrics, jewelry - anything an artist might find inspiring. All except fruit or vegetables, which we had to bring ourselves. His way of teaching was to give us free hands. “Please just paint what you see!”, he used to say while smoking heavily. He would then start walking around between the easels, in the quiet room, the only distant sound would be the music of Edit Piaf or Billy Holiday, streaming from aging records played by an old turntable. As he would pass us, from time to time, he would look at the paintings quietly, correcting or helping out with the mixing of the right colors, pointing out errors, suggesting corrections, showing tricks with a brush, telling us how to see the light and the colors.
I have forgotten about this first “art piece” of mine for years, well decades. I think it was stored forgotten in boxes, moved between several attics and basements, until it at one point got damaged being stored in my parents shed. My father, who enjoys painting himself found it and restored it. He had it framed and my parents gave it to me as a house-warming gift when I bought my first house.